


One Burned Lizard

by katikat



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 10:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katikat/pseuds/katikat
Summary: Jack has a hangover. Mac is a saint among men. Burned lizards are discussed. (Unbeta'd)





	One Burned Lizard

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked to write a story where Jack would tell Mac he had beautiful eyes. Well, it turned into this *points*

“My head is  _killing_ me!” Jack whines as he stumbles down the hallway with his arms outstretched like a zombie. His eyes are barely open so every corner he comes across? He bounces off it.

“Well, if you hadn’t drunk so much last night…” Mac points out reproachfully. Fortunately, he isn’t cruel enough to say it too loudly.  _Shh, quiet!_

Jack staggers into Mac’s kitchen and once he finds a stool blindly, just by touch, he  _oozes_ onto it gratefully and rests his aching head against the wonderfully cold counter top. “I didn’t drink more than I usually do, I’ll let you know. I wasn’t  _that_ drunk!”

Mac snorts softly. “Jack, you serenaded my ‘beautiful eyes, as blue as the summer skies,’ if I remember your words correctly.”

Frowning gingerly, Jack tries to dig at least  _something_ about last night out of his memory but everything’s covered with fluffy fog. Zip, nada. He doesn’t remember doing it. But yeah, it kinda does sound like him. “Yeah, well, your eyes are pretty, buddy.”

Laughing, Mac replies, “You sang it to me in the middle of the street. You even went down on your knee!”

_Sheesh, Mother Mary and Joseph!_ Maybe it’s better that he doesn’t remember. “Was I at least good?” he mumbles against the counter top, embarrassed.

“Here, have a coffee!” Mac says instead of responding, annoyed and amused, but mostly fondly  _exasperated_ , and Jack winces when the mug rattles against the counter top.  _Ouch!_

He lifts his head which must weigh a ton and opens one eye. Spotting the mug and the dark, dark, really dark brew in it, he pulls it closer gratefully and inhales the wonderful, life giving vapors. “You’re a saint among men, Mac.”

He catches Mac’s amused grin and a head shake, then he’s offered a plate with two toasts. “What’s that?” Jack asks suspiciously.

“For your hangover,” Mac explains and pushes the plate towards him together with a jar of blueberry jam. Then he leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest.

Now Jack opens both of his eyes despite the stabbing pain it causes him and stares down at the food in front of him. “How did you know the–”

“Secret Dalton Hangover Recipe?” Mac finishes for him, then he rolls his eyes. “Jack, we’ve been friends for ten years. I know that, for some reason, blueberry jam cures your hangovers better than anything else. Why do you think I keep it around? Neither me, nor Bozer eat that stuff.”

Jack stills stares at the plate and the jar and his eyes start to sting a little. He’s weirdly emotional this morning.  _Dammit!_

He clears his throat and pulls the plate closer, ladling a big blob of jam onto his toast. “Well, as long as this is as far as you go with cooking…”

Mac huffs in irritation. “You burn  _one lizard_  in the middle of a jungle - while on the run from insurgents, I must add! - and people have you immediately pegged as a  _bad cook_!”

Jack takes a bite, then he points at Mac with his toast, the blob of blueberry jam wobbling dangerously. “That lizard was all we had! Because of your clumsiness, we had to go hungry!”

“For all we know, that thing could’ve been poisonous!” Mac glares at him.

“Are you calling my lizard skills into question?” Jack protests. “Because I have to tell you, buddy, it was my dad who taught me how to hunt and–” His voice falters and he drops his eyes.

_Oh._  That’s why he got so drunk last night. Now he remembers. Yesterday, it was ten years since his father died. Ten goddamn years.

“Hey, Jack,” Mac says kindly and waits until Jack looks up; Jack’s throat turns thick when he sees the look of understanding in Mac’s eyes. “Your dad taught you well. He would’ve been proud of you.”

Jack turns his bitten toast around and around in his hand, watching the jam slide from one end to another. “Thanks. Man, I  _loved_ the old guy. He’s been gone for ten years now and it still feels like yesterday. And I miss him so goddamn much!”

Mac reaches across the counter and squeezes Jack’s shoulder.

Then Jack remembers. “Ah, sorry,” he apologizes and when Mac looks at him with puzzlement, he explains, “I keep babbling about my dad and how awesome he was while you’re still trying to find yours. That’s not exactly–”

“It’s okay, Jack,” Mac interrupts him, smiling. “Just because my dad took off and hasn’t bothered to call in fifteen years, doesn’t mean that you should stop talking about yours. I love listening about Mr. Dalton. I wish I had met him.”

Jack smiles, too, munching on his toast. “He would’ve loved you.”

Mac laughs. “Despite my proclivity for dismantling ham radios?” he teases.

Jack guffaws, then winces as his head protests strongly. “Yeah, despite that, buddy. He sure loved his ham radios - but he loved helping people more. He would’ve gladly sacrificed his prized possession if it meant a life saved.”

“I wish my dad was like that…” Mac whispers a little wistfully.

Jack leans closer, concerned for his best friend despite his own aching body and soul. “Hey, you won’t actually know what he  _is_ like until we find him and you get to ask him what the hell has been going on. So, don’t just give up on him yet, okay?”

Mac smiles again and nods. “How about we stop by the cemetery and say hi to your dad? And then we can get a big, juicy steak for lunch - my treat. We don’t have to be at work till afternoon so we have time.”

Jack swallows the last bit of his toast and consults his head and stomach. The noggin still hurts but he’ll just put on his sunglasses and let Mac drive. And his stomach, well, he can eat anything, anytime, anywhere, another Dalton trait, so… no protests there.

“Alright,” he agrees. “But first, I need to take a shower and change. Then I’m all yours, buddy.” He pauses and points a finger at Mac. “As long as you don’t cook.”

Mac rolls his eyes again. “Seriously,  _one burned lizard_!”


End file.
